Balancing rocks while the world tilts

returning to a practice that sustained me while my mom was dying

Listen to me read the post…

I have begun to balance rocks again.

The last time I did this was thirteen years ago, also in the month of September. My mom was dying. I didn’t yet know how to make sense of a world without a mother. I didn’t know how to make sense of anything.

Not only was my mom dying, but my marriage was crumbling, and I’d quit my job but hadn’t yet found my footing as a self-employed person. I felt like I was stuck on the tilt-a-whirl at a carnival, unsure of which direction would be up once I could finally get off.

I don’t know why the rocks soothed me, but they did. Down by the river one day, I sat on the ground and started balancing them. In that moment, away from the chaos and overwhelm of my life, my hands found what my brain couldn’t and something made sense. There was gravity and balance, and even when the placement of the rocks made no sense at all to my troubled mind, my hands could get still enough to find the subtle, seemingly magical point at which each rock helped to hold the whole in place.

Now I’m back by the water, balancing rocks again, thousands of kilometres away from the Red River where I once balanced them. I haven’t done it since Mom died, even though there have been plenty of tilt-a-whirl moments in the intervening years.

Why am I doing it now? Nobody’s dying (that I know of), and my personal life is relatively stable, but still... the world feels like its spinning again and I’m not sure which way will be up when the tilt-a-whirl stops. Democracy is crumbling. Fascism is rising. Greedy billionaires are manipulating the economy. Artificial Intelligence is dismantling the way we work. Social media is messing with our social structures. Comics and journalists are being silenced. Climate change is wreaking havoc on the world. Spinning, flipping, tilting.

I walked into the woods, as I do almost every day (especially when my nervous system needs attunement), and something told me to take the little path to the secret beach.

Do rocks speak? I don’t know, but I felt them calling me. “Come sit with us. Lay your hands on us. Trust our ancient solidness. Let us work through your hands to guide your soul back into balance.”

When rocks speak, I listen. Just as when Mom was dying, I found the stillpoint - feeling for the magical point of balance, trusting the rocks, my hands, and the laws of nature to guide me. My mind quieted, the tilt-a-whirl slowed, and I felt the presence of the Mystery that holds me when I need it most.

(p.s. In case you’re concerned about the environmental impact, I don’t leave the rocks stacked.)

---

Next week, we’ll be gathering with our alumni to celebrate the fifth anniversary of the Centre for Holding Space. I can hardly wait to hug those beautiful people I’ve mostly only seen on a screen!

If you want to join us for any of our future programming, these two opportunities are currently available:

1. Leadership for Liminal Spaces. Our eighth webinar will be on October 2nd, but you can still access the recordings of all of them.

2. How to Hold Space - Foundation Program. This is our cornerstone program, that is ostensibly all about holding space, but in reality is so much more than that. It’s a guide to how to be more fully human, interconnected with the web of humanity.

A couple of other things… If you want to hear me talk about holding space and why it’s even more important now than ever, here’s my latest interview on The Calming Ground podcast.

If you’re interested in learning about the origins, evolution, and importance of holding space, join me on October 7th for a special event hosted by Beehive Productions.